HoND: The Moon Cannot Be Stolen
by princessebee
Summary: Yet another ancient piece from 2001, a challenge fic by my friend ThreeOranges. Herlikin loses something precious to her and must find a way to heal and come to terms with herself. Warnings for sensitive themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_Ugh! All these blasts from the past! This fic was a challenge from my friend ThreeOranges to write a story with this title. Since one of the themes of Herlikin's life were her miscarriages, I went with that topic. I think this one is from 2000._

_Flawed, clumsy, immature, all the rest of it… you know the drill by now._

_---_

**Chapter One**

"HERLI!" The voice flung itself across the Court and was then tossed off the stone walls again, falling around me as I mused at the puddle of water at my feet, tracing one scarred toe across it carefully, wondering what the little ripples thought as they were pushed inwards and outwards again, in and out, in and out.

Such a rhythm had put me in the position I was in - that is, seven months pregnant, and I had thought a good many things about it, and not one of them bad.

"HERLIKIN TROUILLEFOU!!!" Again that familiar lady voice, usually such a welcome sound, interrupted my thoughts, and I sighed in irritation and pushed one long, straggly lock of red hair back over my shoulder, and wiped my nose, and rubbed my swollen belly and wished I could pull my legs up under my chin, wished harder I had the energy to hoist myself from my resting spot and go where one of my dearest friends could not find me.

I sat in the Square in the Court of Miracles, on a low wooden bench near one of the deep iron pots the women used for cooking, silent and cold now, the embers long since died out. I looked at the sooty place beneath it longingly. I wanted to run my toes through that muck, why I couldn't say, but I did not have the energy to move. It was midday and this area of the Court was near deserted, there were no rom-neve to host, it was summer and there was a lot of work to be done by both romni and romano to feed not only bellies tonight but for the winter months which were catching us up day by day.

Only I, the fat pregnant daj, had to stay below and be bored playing nursemaid not only to my own babbies, but to those of other women also. Thank the strength of good strong rom baro seed that I was not the only mother-to-be at that time and had managed to creep (quite literally with thanks to my belly) away unnoticed by them as they busied themselves chasing young, dirty-necked brats, and stopping brazen little wenches from tearing the hair and pinching the spindly arms of the other.

Now I sat by myself, sheltered by soot-black pots, and the left over rugs and cushions that always littered the place during the day, hoping Colombine would not discover me. She was the dearest friend I knew of woman, but she knew nothing about carrying a child within oneself, and the disinterestedness in others it could bring. I felt as though I carried a pail of milk within me, my lean husband could not lean in as close as I liked, I could not wear my favourite dresses or tumble with my children and I...waddled! As the duck waddled so did graceful little Herli who never stopped floating as she walked, though the fragile flesh on her feet hurt her so at times - ah! Never mind the rewards of holding a babby to my breast, I did not like being round as the barrel.

"HERLIKIN TROUILLEFOU NEE DUPRE!" Colombine would not be ignored and I tapped my hands over the stretched skin of my stomach, covered snugly in gold embroidered red cotton, in an agitated rhythm before giving in.

"I'm over here, dili!"

A moment later and her cheeky brown face appeared, bobbling over the tops of the pots, and then it was she herself bending her way around them, decked out in white and green, very becoming to her eyes and hair and slender, so slender, form. There were dimples in her cheeks as she smiled at me wickedly, and her green eye flashed in that way I knew so well.

"I'm in no mood for your devil's work" I grumbled ominously at her. "I could push you over with one nudge of my stomach, so be warned!"

She giggled delightedly. "Herli, pregnancy is dangerous for you! You sound like Tante Marie when you say things like that!"

"Oooohhh!" Lethargy forgotten I pushed myself forward and whacked her for that. I loved Tante Marie, but god knows I did not want to be like her!

She darted back, still laughing, glad to have provoked some life from me.

"Come on, Herli" she bounced to her feet, twitching her green skirts and holding out a bejewelled hand to me.

I wriggled my shoulders petulantly "What is your plan?"

Again that twinkle. "There is no plan, 'demoiselle', but you are acting not yourself, so perhaps Colombine will lead you in the path that is your own again, hmm?"

I sighed and pushed again that disobedient lock or hair over my shoulder, pouting to myself, and dragging again my toe through the little puddle of water which had fallen from such a long way through a tiny gap in the Court roof to gather there. Why not? It is true, I was very much not myself. Frustration from not being able to move about as freely as I liked, from being forbidden to leave the Court, from not being able to fit into my favourite dress...

Sulking was always fun until it became boring, so after another sigh I put my hand in hers, and she hauled me to my feet, and together we began our way out of the eating area of the Square, she tripping gracefully, and I...waddling.

On the other side of the Square, Renault had his tins of paint and was painting prettily some of the furniture he so cleverly made. It was a chair turning daffodil yellow, and a footstool become forget-me-not blue and a little table rose red. Both Colombine and I stopped at the sight of them, our eyes growing wide in astonishment, and heedless of my bulk I was the first to totter quickly to him, my eyes hungrily drinking the flowers in his paint tins.

"Colours, Renault, where did you get these colours?" I cried, waving a hand over them as though they were jars of magic. Colombine sighed and smiled at these joys, while Renault chuckled into his beard.

"I have had luck these days, mam'zelles. Luck." Renault was a man of a few words, and a stern temper and it was as much as we would get out of him, but I tried again anyway. I always try again.

"But from where? Who has bestowed you luck, Renault?"

He frowned at me with his brows becoming one. "It is my business, chey, you know better than to question again a man who has given you an answer."

Bah! Men. I wished that Clopin was here with me, he would get from Renault the information I wanted. So I pouted and twitched my skirts and sighed to the side, but could not leave these colours.

"For whom you paint these, Renault?" Colombine asked him as she bent over to peer closely at the bright yellow chair, so pretty and sunny.

He shrugged as his brush went stroke, stroke bright red over the table. "For pleasure, chey. Because such colour is pleasure. Possibly for sale."

At that both my head and Colombine's shot up and we peered at each warily from sideways eyes. She might be able to work when I could not, but I had my husband, greatest performer in all of Paris, and his purse which hung very loosely from his belt! Colombine and I gazed at each other as two beasts size one another up in damp green clearing of a forest where they have come across one another by accident, should I attack or is he too big? Who eats who here? She narrowed her eyes at me and I did likewise, before bursting out with -

"Renault, Clopin will give you the money for these tonight!" Who knows if he would, but I wanted my claim staked. Colombine groaned.

"No! You cheated! Too fast!" I grinned and poked out my tongue at her.

"He will pay you for each and all tonight, Renault. Let me have them, please!"

He leaned back from his painting, pushing the brim of his hat up with one red and yellow-stained finger, gazing at me with his bright blue eyes a minute, as I clasped my ringed fingers to him pleadingly. He gave a short laugh and bent to his work again.

"Very well, Herli. Just you make sure Clopin pays, for you will not get them before then. And it must be Clopin who brings the money, I don't want him coming to me later to explain how you cut the purse from his belt again, and that he must return my crafts."

I pursed my lips and twitched my skirts again. It would be hard to convince Clopin then, but perhaps I could work some sympathy from him because of my condition. I cocked my head to the side and blinked smilingly at Renault.

"It shall be as you say, Renault, just so." I said sweetly. He shot me a half-laughing glance from beneath his brows before laying carefully the small bright red table aside and standing to his feet, stretching wide, his great brawn of a chest expanding even more, his huge hairy arms all clenched fist and paint-stained.

"There, that's finished. Don't you brats touch it now, it needs to dry. Mind me, don't touch anything here."

Grasping a much begrimed towel from besides him, he walked away wiping his sweaty face, sighing into the linen, leaving me with a smug smile and Colombine with indignant eyes. She pinched me through my thin red sleeve.

"Herli! You're terrible! Must you have everything that takes your fancy?"

"Must you?" I reiterated rudely, for she was just as bad as me. "You know very well had I not been first you would have been!"

She grimaced and shook her hands in front of me. "That's not my point, Bengali!!"

I turned away with a little smile and ran my eyes over Renault's work area. Towels lay haphazardly on the stone floor, and on them his newly painted flower furniture. An enormous flask with his water lay next to his bench, but my eyes skimmed over it, coming to rest on the little pots of paint clustered nearby. With a wicked grin I dipped a finger into the yellow one

and flicked it suddenly at Colombine who gasped as it whipped a long line across the front of her dress and the bare part of her bosom.

"What is your point, dili?" I asked smartly, and put my hands on my hips, and thrust out my huge belly and laughed very heartily. But Colombine is not the woman who can so easily be beaten. Looking down at herself with an expression that was part bafflement, part disbelief and part crankiness, she dipped her finger in the red tin and tossed it at me, putting a large red splotch on my nose. But I could not stop laughing now, and there was a grin on her face too as one by one we dipped a finger in a paint jar and added a new and far more modern pattern to our dresses.

We backed up from one another, laughing, she nimbly and I awkwardly and now each of us held a pot of paint in our hands and were gaily flinging paint not only at each other but all about us as well, mimicking so well the children who sat just beyond and around the way, watched over by the women who were our own age, and younger as well. The thought of my babbies, Lena and Harlan, Clopin and Ahvel, and the way they would look if they caught sight of their maman so, doing the same thing that she scolded them mercilessly for, made me grab my belly and roar with laughter so much that it ached, and I had to put down my tin of paint and pause for a moment, unable to stop laughing, bending over in ache, and Colombine came over to me and we flung paint strewn arms about the other and held on to each other and laughed and laughed.

But I was not so lost in my merriment to not recognise she was in my power, and leaning back over to the bench, I filled a hand full with yellow paint and smeared it with a splat! over her hair, rubbing my hands through it and laughing. She was too jolly now to be much angered, she only gasped at the sticky coldness, and then retaliated in kind, smearing the sky-blue all over my face as I tried to cry between giggles for her to stop.

But suddenly a boom of thunder interrupted our sunny skies as Renaults' deep voice came booming to us in stricken-anger.

"My paints! All of my paints!"

How quickly the smiles ran from our faces as we stopped, still clinging to each other, covered lavishly in red and blue and yellow paint, and some purple and green too, now. It gave me an idea for an excuse as we broke hurriedly apart and gazed fearfully at the dark tower of a man who strode towards us, his face and arms freshly scrubbed, his blue eyes black with anger.

Before he could say another word I jumped forward timidly. "We were mixing new colours for you Renault!" I said hastily, but to my misfortune he took my reply as impudence and went to box my ears. I darted out of the way in alarm and fell with a shriek into Colombine's arms, and by this time both our laughter and Renault's shouting had aroused the women and children from where they sat, and their sudden movement had attracted the attention of a few of the men who worked within the Court, so that now we were surrounded on all sides, like two mischievous cats, by alternatively wide-eyed and stern-faced rom.

Renault flung his fists in the air and hollered at the roof of the Court as he surveyed the damage we had done; paint was everywhere, on Renault's vurdon which stood just to the side of his benches, the benches themselves, on his towels, all over Colombine and myself - a few splotches had even decorated the hide of his horse. He let forth a torrent of near-incomprehensible curses before wresting the hat from his head and flinging it to the ground, them stomping on it, stomp, stomp, stomp! Renault is not by any stretch of the imagination a small man, and the sight of him with his big beard, and big hands, and big chest and big boots stomping on his poor little hat was a sight so rare, it were as though Clopin had snuck up behind and begun to tickle me as my shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter, and my eyes grew wet from the strain of staying silent, and hastily I buried my face in my shawl as though I were ashamed, and smothering my tears. That was too far even for Colombine, there were no smiles on her face as Renault finished his tantrum and turned around to face us. I could not see him through the blue of my shawl, but I felt his movement as he strode forward and snatched the shawl from my face. I gasped, outraged, that he should lay a hand on me, but I knew better than to say anything to a man in a temper with a wicked women, and we were this.

Pale-lipped I cast a glance around me, and did not miss the disapproving stares from my friends, the women and what men had come. Colombine and I were in for some trouble now and I was not looking forward to it. Christophe had taken in a great, shuddering breath, shut his eyes tight and calmed himself for a long moment before becoming his silent stern self again.

"Colombine, because you are unmarried, I have sole right to your punishment. Herlikin, you can sit down here and wait for your husband to come home." Taking Colombine by the shoulder he turned to lead her away.

I pointed my nose in the air. "I'll go to my tent and wait for him." He whirled around to me

again and gestured violently with his finger.

"You will wait here!" he bellowed, and startled, I sat down abruptly. I felt, rather than saw, the women nudging to each other and the children wriggle restlessly at being forced to wait before they could whisper frenetically to each other how little queenie was in trouble again. I sat with my back ramrod straight and did not deign to look at them there, I could not stand to see how my friends, the women would be staring at me with disapproval and that one Isabeau with smug smile. I sat there silent, with narrowed eyes and upturned nose until I heard them whisper amongst themselves and herd the children away, all of them drifting back to their respective business and leaving me sitting all by myself with only the babby in my belly for company. I got up and with a great effort hoisted myself onto the table and insolently put my feet upon the bench.

I pouted and rocked, stroking my huge swollen stomach and beginning a little Hindi hum beneath my breath. The paint was drying in my hair and on my clothes and very quickly the merriment of flinging it about was forgotten as I sulked over this. I wanted a bath, but I could not get it until Clopin came home. I hated sitting there, sitting in solitude where anyone who walked by might see me and then discover the reason for my position when they next passed the women. I could envision them all clucking amongst themselves at this moment; the children I did not mind, they were on my side, they would creep by soon with a glass of milk and pinches for me, but my friends, the women would be discussing at length what trouble I caused and what nuisance I was, and how I must cause my big, handsome husband's head to ache so hard. Then one by one these women, my age and younger, would drift to other parts of the Court on their business and pass by them older women coming in from the day's work to cook or sew or whatever dull thing they filled their evening with and the story would spread and the whispers so thick you could stir it with a spoon, and the older women would be saying what an unsuitable wife I was, and how I did not

behave as a wife and mother should, and what a bad example I set, me being wife to the King and all. My lower lip protruded further as I thought these things, for with the gossip-mongers it did not matter my husband was as happy as a man could be, that all four of my children were healthy and beautiful, that my home was spotless and comfortable. Nay, all that mattered to the women who both thrived on gossip and envied that I should be married to one who used to be theirs, is that I did not behave as a wife...should.

I felt very, very sorry for myself.

My babby moved in my stomach then, and I ran hands over it, wide out in front of me, all mine for two months more and smiled down at it. So big, so uncomfortable, but so warm and helpless in my arms afterwards. I may not be a typical daj, but I was a daj nonetheless, and I hated it when my children grew older and no longer wanted to cuddle under my arms and creep into my bed with me and beg for stories and songs and kisses everywhere. Feeling the babby move then reminded me of who I was, and who my husband was and it was comforting. No matter what those women said, Clopin and I adored one another, and this was our babby, and I was it's mother not anyone of them. And that was comforting but then I was reminded that I was, indeed, a pregnant woman and that I had responsibilities and, no harm intended notwithstanding, I had behaved stupidly and childishly in front of those who loved to find fault with me. So finally I was scratching my swollen belly in agitation and feeling very cross with myself as the day grew longer, though night and day seemed all the same in the Court, and the Square began to come to life once more as the huge fires were lit, and more lanterns too, though no one came to my little corner with a lamp. One by one the rom came in from their adventures in the streets above to saunter lazily back to their tents calling greetings to one another, and eyeing paint-strewn me with interest, amusement and my well-known disapproval.

Clopin would laugh when he heard about it, I knew, but he would be cross also because of the damage that was done to Christophe's things. He would not laugh to me, to me he would scold, to himself he would laugh and love me for being still a child in some ways, but he would also be cross. Cross because the men would expect him to beat me and he would not, because they would expect him to punish me, and he would not, and all around him would be the whispers of how I was wicked and wilful and not being punished as a disobedient wife should. But still, I wanted him to come home and scold me and shake his finger and then cuddle me and laugh above my head. Clopin didn't care that I was an unsuitable wife and mother, he loved me anyway. My babby moved again and I ran hands over my stomach and sung some more. I felt faintly disharmonious within myself, and it was not because of my trouble.

"Who is this bengali chey in disgrace by herself in the dark with a pouting lip?" came that golden voice which so sung through my days. I jumped a little and wanted to leap off the table and into his arms, but my belly was huge and protruding, and despite the humour in his voice there was also something of You are in trouble Herli there too, so I did not respond apart from my jump, just turned my head slowly to meet the glittering black eyes of my husband in his jongleur's garb, leaning over the back of the bench behind the table I was perched on, his mask dangling from one large black-shod hand and his hat pushed up high on his head. He regarded me inquisitively, with a strange half-smile and stern eyes, but he was happy to see me too and I wanted again to just kiss him, but it would not do - I was in disgrace - so I pouted further, and kicked out at the air.

"I'm no little girl!" I said sulkily, and he chuckled and rubbed his chin.

"No, you're not. You're a romni, a daj and twenty nine. You're in charge of our home and our children, and are expected to maintain both as any good romani wife would. So today I come home to find Christophe raging at the sky and telling me you play with paint like a cat would with yarn, and all around him the men are saying 'subdue her, punish her, teach her, beat her'. So which would you like first ,Herli?"

I rubbed my eyes with my hands. "It was all in fun, you brute, there was no harm meant."

He sighed and pushed his hat up further. "You never mean any harm, Herli, but harm is nearly always done. It cannot always be seen, this harm. I don't know where women like you and Colombine belong, but it's not here. When the other women see you playing like children, you lose credibility with them. It justifies them not heeding you, or feeding our children when your back is turned. Or especially making eyes and invitations to me."

"Perhaps it is not my behaviour which makes them feel they can do that, but perhaps your - liberty with your affections of a few years ago?" I said bitingly. His mouth pulled down into a long frown, and his eyes flicked to the side. It was a shot below his belt, but I was the one carrying the big fat babby inside of me for him. He hated for me to mention that, for his guilt was strong - though he yet believed there were some justifications for it.

"I thought that was all passed by and forgotten, Herli." He said softly. "Forgiven I thought." I wriggled my shoulders and again kicked at the air. "It is, it is. But I hate being punished."

He caught hold of my elbow. "Then you should not do things that require punishment."

"What then?" I said sharply "I should sit in my tent and sew and cook and have babby and babby and die like that?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course not, you silly woman. But you can have your fun in less destructive ways. You're pregnant too, you should not forget this, especially after what has happened in the past."

Oh, he would have to bring that up, insensitive brute. A little shiver passed through me and I pulled my arm from his grip, looking away from him and rubbing my hands protectively over my stomach. He saw the pain in me and moved around the bench to stand beside me and stroke my back.

"Come on, you can't sit out here in the cold by yourself, and I can't stand here and talk to you when I should be punishing you. Let's go back to the tent, now, sort things out there. The children will be wanting their dinner soon."

I put my little hand in the large one he offered me, and supporting me around the waist with the other, he helped me get down from the table, where I stood and shook out my skirts, little flecks of dried paint flying everywhere and I saw Clopin smile. With his arm about my waist, he began to walk and I to waddle back in the direction of our tent, and I was very glad to have the feel and smell of him next to me. He stopped suddenly, and I glanced at him surprised as he turned me around to face him, his other arm slipping around my back and his lovely brown face beaming all down at me.

"Oh Herli, before I forget." He said laughingly and leaned down to kiss me, his lips all soft and warm and his breath with that familiar taste of wine on it, and it was easy for me to forget my petulance and kiss him back and slip arms up and over his shoulders and hate the interruption of my stomach between us. He broke the kiss with a soft chuckle, and turned with an arm about my shoulders now to begin leading me away.

"Come now, they won't think much of a punishment in the form of a kiss." He told me sardonically, but I didn't care much, quite happy to nestle under his arm. But as we moved away, I was arrested suddenly by something like ice spreading through my belly. It began in the centre, then split off to all sides, reaching up even to my heart, and I caught my breath and stumbled a little. Clopin caught me up quickly, alarm on his face.

"What is it kitten?" he asked, but the feeling had passed and I waved it aside.

"It is nothing, a stone on the ground." I said, and shook off the uneasiness poking my shoulder.

-----

I began our dinner as Clopin told me stories of his day above performing for the gaje he hated and their children that he loved, at least until they grew up. My punishment was slightly bitter, I was not to have the flower furniture, but Clopin would help Colombine to pay for it, never mind that she had been a part of the mischief.

"Colombine will be punished enough by Renault to more than make up for that, kitten." Clopin told me when I protested. "She will work those slender brown fingers to the bone cleaning for him,

something I might add, you have only escaped due to your condition." He frowned mock-terribly at me. "It is also the sole reason you escape a beating."

I laughed at that, as he knew I would, and he grinned to himself as he put his feet up on a chair, and pulled off his hat, drinking down the wine I had poured for him. Clopin would never beat me, he was not a man of that nature.

I made soup with leftover beef and fresh vegetables, and left the whole thing on to simmer while I stood behind Clopin and rubbed his shoulders and he leant his head back against my bosom and shut his eyes while I whispered softly to him.

It was nice to have the quiet moments like this, different from shared confidences, playful exchange or tender moments in bed after being together, but just the quiet little moments where there was pleasure to take from one another being there. We'd learnt on several occasions not to take the love we had for granted, so even though I badly wanted to bathe I stood there for

moments longer, loving the feel of the bones and muscles of his shoulders beneath my fingers.

It was our one daughter, Lena, who broke the moment as she entered with an armful of wildflowers, the smell of her fresh and soft from outdoors, petals and grass in her hair. She smiled softly at us both, and said hello in her quiet little voice before coming over to give a wild rose to her papa and a kiss on his cheek. Lena was devoted to Clopin, but she could not forgive him straying from me briefly as easily as what I had, and it showed. Lena was a quiet and introverted child, but Clopin had easily been able to pull her out of herself, and in the past she had delightedly flung little arms around his legs and kissed his knees again and again with "I love you I love you I love you Papa!" heedless of who was around - a sharp comparison to how she would shyly show affection for the others she loved - now all she could do was such things as hand him a flower and a soft little kiss. She wanted to forget it and adore him as easily, but she could not, and it pained her and it pained Clopin. I could feel the want in him to embrace her now, but she was twelve, not a babby anymore, so he could do nothing but thank her for the flower and stick it into his belt.

None of our children slept with us in the tent anymore, they had had their own since they were all four years of age. Lena, having reached womanhood, only recently moving out of the tent she had previously shared with her twin brother Harlan, much to their mutual dismay.(they were most extremely close as binaks often are) But we always ate together of an evening, and Lena still helped me in our tent, as well as learning maintenance of the one she shared with Jeta, another romni girl the same age. Soon now, the other three would be making their way in, Clopin and Ahvel from their play in the Court, Harlan from where he worked with the other young boys. Taking note of this, I said to Lena to watch the soup (and hoped she and her papa would talk some more) and gathered my things for a bath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The baths had been fresh filled, and the air was warm and steamy the way I liked it, and I could smell roses and lavender on the air. Rosa, Lucille and Louisa were there when I got there, giggling and splashing about from where they squatted in their tubs. We greeted each other amicably enough, though perhaps with not overwhelming joy. I placed my towels, combs and ointments to one side as I pulled off my diklo, bodice, skirts, petticoats and chemise as they each soaped themselves and washed, their brown bodies shining and slippery, curvy and womanly.

But I was quite, quite proud of my big belly right then, unashamedly standing naked in front of them as I went to clamber into one of the tubs, and I could see them all eyeing it off, me the wickedest woman-child in the Court, pregnant and adored by the handsome Bulibasha. Louisa clicked her tongue and said to no one in particular;

"Four babbies and her tits aren't even saggy!"

Oh how I love to be envied! I hid a smug little smile as I lowered myself down into the water, my belly poking up above it, and leaned back and began to rub myself over with the ointments I used to keep wrinkles away, and my scrubbing brush so I would not get the hideous stretch marks which haunted my dreams...

Lying there, the smile fell from my face suddenly as another strange sensation swept through my belly. Again - like ice! Ice - as though someone had poured freezing water into my navel, and it was freezing...freezing into ice in my belly! The bath, the tent, the girls as they rubbed themselves dry and scented and dressed, all faded away and I lay there with a pounding heart, and a mind frightened, terrified, by this feeling. My throat was dry I sat so still with my lips parted, not breathing. Slowly, slowly, this strange feeling melted away and I gulped, and licked my lips, and ran a trembling hand back through my wet hair. I sat up as quickly as I could manage, my wet shoulders growing cold suddenly in the air, the tent darker than I remembered it. I realised I was alone, and hastily, shaking, I washed my hair and the last remnants of paint from my body, and hoisting myself awkwardly out of the bath I dried and dressed as quickly as I could manage.

I was relieved to back to my tent with all my family there by now, joking and laughing and the tent all aglow with warmth that was not only from the fire. I was so pleased to see Clopin had convinced Lena to perch on his lap, who was giggling as he told her some silly story, as my boys Clopin and Ahvel poked, and pinched, and teased one another while Harlan rolled his eyes and played the big man. The soup was all ready, and Lena had been the good girl and laid out bread and cheese and wine on the table for her papa and myself, and I was pleased to see she had decided to play the little mother as well and had cleaned Clopin and Ahvel's grimy six-year-old face and hands. I was greeted with cheerful and loving smiles all round, and I leaned against the tent flap a little and smiled weakly back. The icy feeling had passed, but had left with it one of uneasiness, both of mind and body. It was that faint disharmony I had felt earlier, and it was stronger now.

But I masked it, and pretended nothing as Lena leapt off Clopin's lap to serve our dinner, and my boys continued to try and outdo each other with smart-mouthed comments and boasts, all of which Clopin shamefully encouraged them with. But as I moved around to take my place, he managed to tear himself away from urging Ahvel to prove how easily he could make big brother Harlan look a fool to wink at me, and he knew of course that there was something wrong, and now with an expression of concern he held out a hand for me to take, and when I did he pulled me down onto his lap, cuddling me close. Ahvel, still in the humour for cheeky braggarting, come forth with -

"She will crush your legs, Papa, with the giant babby in her belly!"

I buried my head in my husband's neck as he slammed a fist on the table and told his son to mind his maman's feelings. Ahvel jumped, and apologised meekly, but I ran a little hand through his shiny hair and said it was not important. Clopin turned my face to his and asked me was there anything wrong.

"No no, it is nothing." I said softly, shaking my head, waving a hand nonchalantly.

"Just a stone on the ground, eh?" he said quietly, putting his head in close and looking at me closely. I shrugged it off again.

"There are no fears" I lied, and he well knew it. But he let me get off his lap and take my own seat, but I could not eat my soup when Lena gave it to me, only a small piece of cheese and bread.

Sometimes being pregnant and unwell is a wonderful thing, for it was Lena who Clopin said could do the dishes, for I despised the dishes, despised them completely. But I was left in peace to fall down on my bed while Lena hummed at the front of the tent and cleaned, and Clopin chased his boys from the tent, Harlan finally dropping his big man poise when he saw his papa was in the mood to behave the child with them. I knew they were going to wrestle, of course, wrestle and fight and each tell the other what wonderful big strong men they were. So there I lay on the bed rich with the scent of my husband and of lavender, and contemplated my belly as it poked up high before me. There was still the feeling of uneasiness all the way

through me, and I sighed and pulled Clopin's pillow onto my face and breathed in deep, smelling his skin, his sweat and hair, and the lavender.

It was yet another wicked thing for me to do, keep so much lavender in the bed while I was laid up with child. It is not my favourite scent, but when in bed it is very pleasant and aroused both my husband and myself greatly, and we of course, could do nothing about it. A less secure married woman would not of dared, least her husband find satisfaction elsewhere, but I enjoyed the knowledge of Clopin's desire for me and how he would hold me both tight and lightly in his arms, and breathe shallowly into my hair during my time. I could revel in that as one of the few powers we women have in this man's world. I had been blessed, blessed like few women with a man who loved me and who had respect for women. But I was still expected to toe the line - if I showed Clopin up in public, then he would punish me publicly. He had let me do things no other man would ever let his wife do, but there had been strict rules and guidelines to follow, and repercussions for not following them.

But as a woman whose husband loved her and who had taught her to be confident in her sexuality with him, I could at times, wield a great deal of power. My mother had taught me the glories of the dark side of the moon - like the power women have in the life giving blood of our menstrual flow, so is the power we have in femineity so long as we learn how to use it. We may never lead this world, but we can make life very sweet for ourselves through it. Each female is a mystery, wrapped up in herself until the time of her first bleeding when she realises the power of her womanhood, the power of the moon reflected in her sex, as her time comes and goes with the waning and the waxing of that mighty light in the sky. Just as my mother had taught me to love the unicorn, a creature of purity, of life, of night, she had taught me to love the moon, to let my body flow with it's rhythms, as it should, to revel in it's strength, and pure beauty.

As I lay there on my bed with the noise of my only daughter dim in the background, and my nostrils and mouth all filled with the scent of lavender, my eyes became bright with the images of my mama - long away in India, she with her strong mix of gallic-Romany blood who had given me my hair and my eyes and my skin, and who had given me myself. She was ferocious and spirited, but she had not been a disobedient or unsuitable wife, nor had she been subjugated. She did her duty uncomplainingly and brilliantly, and was rewarded for it by my papa with freedom and love and respect. Just like Aloise, Clopin's sister. And both women had been blessed with fruitful wombs. Unlike myself, who had only given birth twice in thirteen years of marriage, and who was wicked and disobedient.

A jolt of pain ran through me then, and it was not from my belly but from my heart - for I had been pregnant seven times at this age - and had lost five times. I sighed as Lena finished her cleaning, putting everything neatly away, and quietly slipping out of the tent to leave me to my rest. I stroked my belly again and tried to push aside the uneasiness which continued to jab my shoulder, harder now.

Who could say what the Powers that Be did, how they worked? I did not know. All I knew was that my heart ached then as I thought of the babes I had lost, and ached harder as I remembered that terrible icy coldness that had spread through my belly. I squeezed my eyes shut tight as a stinging began behind then, my chovexani eyes, and tried not to think about it. But these wicked thoughts would not leave, they played tag in the corners of my mind, darting from one place to the next and I was in terrible danger of crying.

"Only when the moon falls from the sky will the world end, daughter" my daj's voice whispered in my ear, another long passed memory rising from the earth to dance in my head, my mama and myself sitting in the menstrual tent on straw, as we did in India, looking outside at the ripe egg of the moon. "When all women are gone from this earth, so will mankind die, for man cannot live without woman, just as night cannot fall without the moon. But who will wipe out woman, and who will pull the moon from the sky? We will always be women, if nothing else, and the moon cannot be stolen, remember that always."

The moon - I needed the moon.

Awkwardly, I rolled off the bed to wrap my shawl and cape around me tightly, before moving as quickly as my bulk would let me out of the tent, away from the Square, towards one of the back exits from the Court of Miracles. Clopin would be furious when he found out, I was strictly forbidden to leave the Court during my term, but I had a need right then - and one he could never, despite how well he knew me, understand.

-----

When I was outside, and she was there before me, full and ripe and shining white, I knew some relief. I could not rid myself of the terrible disharmony running lightly through my veins, but I took comfort in she that represented all my sex, whether human or beast. I saw with pleasure the shape of the Unicorn leaping over her in the stars, strong and free, but with her single horn bowed reverently. I slowly, painfully, lowered myself to the ground and pulled my cape close and tight around me and turned my face towards her light. I was moon bathing. I sang softly to the babby I carried in my womb, sang songs of hope, of love. I sang under the moon's glow that my babby might live and grow strong, whatever sex it was. I prayed it would be perfect and normal and would grow up intelligent and wise. And I confess - although ultimately it would not matter to me I hoped it would be a boy. If I could do this, do this again, then it would not matter I was a wicked wife who talked back to her husband and disobeyed him; I would of done my duty in the eyes of the rom, and they could shut their gossiping mouths finally and envy me my wonderful children, and Clopin's chest could swell with pride and he could strut about the Court as the peacock, and I could bask in his love and no longer feel guilty that the other men might look down upon him because our love for each other was too great for him to subjugate me harshly.

"Herli, what the hell are you doing out here?" Clopin's voice interrupted my thoughts, in which I had become lost.

I jumped and turned to him, masking my face, hoping moon would not betray me and illuminate my eyes. He was frowning, angry that I should of been wicked twice in one day, first shaming him and then disobeying him, but I was not going to break down now and fish for sympathy. It was too close to my heart for me to play. I just looked at him, golden brown in the moonlight, his face shadowed by his hat, even at night time and did not answer. I could feel his anger grow in my silence, until finally he barked out.

"Get up now, and go inside and I might forget about this!"

Oh and what will you do if I don't? Was the thought that immediately rose in my mind. Were I not feeling so melancholy it would of passed my lips too, such retorts to my husband were common of me and he expected then, and when he did not get one this time, he pulled his hat off and sat down next to me.

"What's wrong petite-ves'tacha?" When Clopin was in a mood to be particularly tender, despite scolding or bossiness, he would mix rom and French up, using what words best expressed his feelings. He was peering down at me as he wrapped an arm about my shoulders, then followed my gaze up to the moon, where I sat still and looked. I rested my head on his shoulder, rubbing it

about on the bone which poked through the fabric. I sighed and pouted and still did not answer.

"You have to go back underneath, Herli." he said softly. "You should not of come out in the first place."

I didn't have an answer for that, because of course, he was right. Much as I hated that rule, it was the rule, and one I had not disobeyed before, but for a very long time ago...

A memory of that terrible day when Chester had died rose up in my mind and I shivered and pulled my cloak closely and tightly around me and Clopin pounced on it, leaping to his feet and putting his hat back on.

"You're cold. You'll do yourself and the babby harm. Come inside now."

Well, I wasn't speaking and gazing up at the moon, no matter how spiritually-inspiring she was, was having no other effect upon me, so with a resigned sigh I put my hand in the one he outstretched to me, and was about to let myself be hauled to my feet when my little babby Ahvel's voice come pipping out -

"Maman, papa, we can see you!"

Clopin let go my hand and turned, ready to shout at them to go below, but it was my turn to pounce and I called out -

"We cannot see you, come over here my little darlings!"

A second later and all three of my boys were clambering onto the low little wall Clopin and I had perched ourselves on, it's grey stones turned silver in the moon, it's moss bright black. Clopin sighed and grumbled but they cuddled in quickly and closely to me and their beautiful pointed little faces made me laugh a little, and wrap my cloak about them too, remembering the joy I had felt when I had suckled them when they were still such tiny babbies, a joy I was to know again - soon. When Clopin saw they had lightened my heart, he relented, though with a frown, and pushed his namesake along the wall to sit next to me. I returned my attentions to the moon. She may not take away my uneasiness, but dammnit, she was spiritually inspiring.

Around me my boys - their papa included, vied for my attention - today maman, I did this and then I did this but my brer, he could not do this instead he did this and looked a fool, and kitten you should of seen how they applauded me, they literally begged me to perform again, some of the ladies followed me to the next street and so it went on. But I heard such babble and more everyday, so it all washed over me and passed away - pushed away by the moon's light, and I did not answer them as they wished, and so finally they fell silent, and Clopin's fingers traced a pattern over my back and little Ahvel rested his head against my bosom and yawned. We would have to go inside soon.

But no - the next moment my boy had raised his head and said to me;

"Maman, how came the moon to be in the sky?"

I smiled down at him, it was an old bedtime story and a favourite one. "The moon is the womb of the Great Goddess, who goes by many different names, and from her womb come all the women of the world, and our bodies work in rhythm with her to this day, in honour of our Great Mother."

A shortened version, but it pleased him and he leaned his head against my bosom again and contemplated the moon. My shav, Harlan smiled in memories of the same story being told him when he was a babby, but Clopin snorted.

"Bah! Paramitsha! It is very clear the moon is the left eye of Devi, watching over us by night." I frowned at him. "Do you deny then, that women are tied to the moon, that she is our guide and our mother?"

"I never denied that! But the moon is no womb!"

"What makes you so sure?"

"This story was told me by my maman and she was never wrong."

"Well, my story was told me by my maman and she was never wrong!"

"Perhaps both maman's are wrong?" Harlan interjected.

"No!" Clopin and I said together. Our son Clopin spoke up.

"But the moon is for woman, this you both agree upon?"

Clopin and I nodded gravely, for that truth could never be denied.

Our son Clopin continued. "In that case, does it not stand to reason that a woman would know better than a man what the moon truly is, just as a man would know better what the sun truly is?"

He was a smart boy, my son Clopin. "That is true, my son, my wise son. You speak some sense to your father!"

Clopin my husband scowled. "Bah! Paramitsha!"

I sneered at him. "Anything you don't agree with is a fairy tale to you! Are you perhaps listening to the gajo too much, and are following their new and 'enlightened' intellectualism? Those filthy pigs who bathe but once a year and think it is enough?"

He waved a dismissive hand at me. "The gajo are all idiots. You know I think as much of their supposed intellect as I do the dirt on my shoe. Knowing their idiocy they probably think the moon is the flip side of the sun!"

Our son Clopin, who had been pondering our words with large, thoughtful eyes, spoke again. "I have a theory of the moon's light. I have thought that, just as women are enlightened and made strong by man, so is the moon illuminated by sun's light."

Clopin raised an interested eyebrow at that, and looked up at the moon with squinted eye, but I shook my head and said softly to my boy.

"My son, you are wise beyond your years it is true, but the moon is clearly illuminated with her own light. Can you see the sun anywhere abouts in the sky?"

He hesitated before shaking his head. "Well then." I said satisfied. But I could see from the way he chewed his lip and looked above at the moon he was not. It was my turn to continue. "The moon glows with her own light, and it is strong and guides our way when we would otherwise become lost. So do women find their own light within themselves."

Clopin clicked his tongue and laughed a little. "But the moon does not illuminate the night fully! You will remember that before sun hung in the sky, the whole world was black. It was sun that brought light to the world, sun is stronger. Man is stronger."

It was true, but then man was bigger, more violent and smellier. But I did not say so. A woman can only disrespect her husband so far, and he did speak the truth. Our son Clopin leant forward suddenly with a new thought.

"Man is bigger than woman. Perhaps sun is also bigger than moon!"

Clopin chuckled and pulled me closer to him. I laughed a little also.

"My boy, it is very clear that sun and moon are both the same size." Clopin told him gently. "The greater strength of the sun's light comes from within, just as it does with man."

Another pause from our thoughtful son, and then "But two things at different distances can look the same size. Perhaps sun is placed back further than moon?"

"But my son" I said to him "You know that the God and Goddess lie side by side in the sky. Sun and moon lie side by side. And sun and moon are much smaller than earth, they are as buttons in the sky."

My son looked at me with the superiority he was already learning from his papa. "Perhaps not everything in the world is as was told you by your parents, maman."

"Mind your maman." Clopin said quietly, but sternly, and our boy looked away, chided. Our son Clopin would not be allowed to disagree with me until he was a youth, like Harlan. But Harlan loved his maman too much to use his supposed superior intellect as a man over me. I had a feeling my son Clopin would have no such compunctions. But then, he was a brilliant boy.

The night's breeze was cold, although it was summer, and I shivered again a little, and Clopin wasted no time in leaping down from the wall.

"Come now, we're going inside" he said to all of us. "Your wicked maman is cold, though she might deserve to be I cannot bear to see it."

Obediently our three sons clambered from the wall, and Clopin lifted me gently down, before bending his head for a kiss, at which our sons Ahvel and Clopin stopped to look. As babbies Harlan and Lena had giggled and joked to see our very frequent affection, but Clopin and Ahvel would watch us silently, with smiles on their faces. They liked to see us touch one another

gently, I think it soothed them in a way. Harlan pushed his brothers on, scolding them severely for watching, and a moment later Clopin and I followed, he patiently keeping pace with lumbering me.

Lena was long since in her tent with Jeta, sewing for their Chest of Treasures they both worked hard upon. Unlike I at her age, Lena looked greatly forward to the day she would be married. Harlan shook his papa's hand, who also ran a hand through his head, then kissed me as I lay myself down slowly and gratefully on the bed, before leaving our tent. Clopin and Ahvel lingered a while longer, wrestling with their Papa before he, laughing, scooped them both up and brought them over to me for kisses and hugs before he pushed them out of the tent.

He blew out the candles on the two candelabra near the front of the tent, and now the only light came from the one by our bed. It was a quiet and dark light, but a warm and comforting one too. It threw friendly shadows against the wall and over Clopin as he walked, still laughing a little, over to me where I was awkwardly trying to unfasten my sandals. Pushing my hands away, he took my feet up in his hands and quickly removed my sandals, before moving to my bodice and skirt. It was an act of consideration, but one of tender intimacy too as told me by his smile, one I could not imagine anyone else ever doing. I was glad for it, for my back ached terribly, more than was usual, and I still felt terribly unsettled. When I was naked, my skin all pink and soft with my swollen nipples and more swollen belly, he pulled back the covers and assisted me underneath them.

Then he pulled off his own clothes. Can I begin to say how much I loved the sight of his body? A perfect golden brown all over, and though he drank and ate so much, he was lean and wiry, his dazzling acrobatic skills giving him a smooth muscularity, not visible beneath his clothes. I loved the black hair on his chest and the way it thinned out as it travelled down over his belly, then thickened again below, and his brown nipples and large, expressive hands and the way his papa had had him circumcised as a babby, having taken counsel from a beloved Jew friend who told him it would keep his boy clean and free from disease. It would seem to have worked, for Clopin, myself and our four babbies glowed with health despite the fact that in his youth Clopin hopped from one bed to another with all the energy of a flea.

He basked in the warmth of my adoring look for a moment before hopping in besides me, pulling my body close. Despite the fact we could do nothing in nakedness right then, we liked the feel of each other so close and warm and for the other. There was tender kissing and hands run through bal and over berk and bul and kori before I snuggled my head happily against his chest, secure in his arms about me, letting the brownness of his body wash over me like sunlight. Then I slept.

-----

I awoke in the middle of the night from a terrible dream where a carrion bird ate my babby from my belly where I lay in the middle of a barren field, while my fluids flowed from me like water, and I screamed in the sharp, relentless pain. How long it was before I realised I screamed out loud, and the pain was no dream pain, but a very real one, sharp and savage, just as though that awful bird hovered above me and stabbed forward with his beak again and again. So lost was I in the blackness of this pain, that it was long before I realised the tent was blazing with light, that people were hurrying back and forth, that Clopin was clinging to my hand and shouting in fright and Tante Marie and Abigail hovered over me calling instructions to those about them.

When I realised all this I sat up violently, my strength in my fear far surpassing the pain. I wailed to see the blood-soaked sheets and clawed desperately at them, and it took Clopin and Tante Marie combined to push me back down, and hold me there. At my other births, Tante Marie and Abigail had been enough to tend me, but now I heard the most gifted and experienced midwife, Tshilaba, being called for, and I continued to wail and moan and struggle with my husband. Tshilaba had hurried in by then, with all of her equipment and medicines, and she wasted no time in shouting for me to be lifted from the bed, and placed in the centre of the Tent, above the blankets and straw that had hurriedly been strewn about. I was vaguely aware that Tante Marie had exclaimed that Clopin and I had brought ill fortune by sleeping naked together during my term, and of Clopin shouting savagely at her to shut up, but there was fear in his voice as well. Tshilaba turned to my husband as Tante Marie and now Colombine, who had joined us, supported me on either side with arms about my waist, and arms circled under my thighs, creating for me a chair of their bodies as I squatted above the straw in agony.

"Bulibasha, you must go" she said with quiet insistence. Clopin shook his head stubbornly, a pair of hose hastily pulled on, but nothing else.

"I'm staying here, with my wife."

The other women let out a cry of horror. Unheard of! Tshilaba continued.

"It is very bad luck for a man to be present whilst his wife gives birth! She will lose the babby!"

Clopin was a tower of rage as he glared down at the little midwife. "The damn babby is dead already, I'm staying here with my wife so if - anything should happen, I am here."

I cried out at those words. How lovely of him to want to be with me, but how cruel of him to so heartlessly toss aside any hope I might've had. Tante Marie snapped at him from my side.

"You big brute!! First you endanger the babby in your bed, now you disregard her feelings as though she were not even here."

Clopin glowered at her. "I told you to shut up, old woman."

Tante Marie gritted her teeth at him while I clung to their arms and cried as the straw beneath me became stained bright red.

"My babby!" I gasped out in pain, and their attention was returned to me. I saw Clopin pale as he saw the blood that flowed from me like a river, and at my face which was most likely white, sweat soaked and twisted in my torment which was not wholly physical. Oh my poor little babby.

Tshilaba kneeled in front of me as another pain wracked me head to foot and I bellowed.

"You know what to do, chey" she said to me softly, casting a last nervous glance at my husband who refused to leave. "Come now, push with me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Tshilaba was good, very good. She sang to me and rubbed my belly as I pushed and she pushed with me, getting Abigail to wipe my head and hair with water. My nails clawed at the arms of Tante Marie and Colombine, and I wept when I was not screaming, and the blood seemed never to stop.

Clopin was useless, as men always are at these occasions. He knelt to one side, his eyes open wide, staring horror struck at the miracle that was birth. Of course he knew we felt pain. My babbies were not the only ones he was sire to, and he had heard the birth cries many times. But he had never witnessed it for himself. I have no idea how long I squatted there, wishing I were dead, pushing and heaving and panting, before I finally felt myself tear, and with a last bellow of pain, the babby slid from me, out of my vision, into Tshilaba's outstretched hands, and I was lain gently back, still panting, as they tried hastily to stop the blood. The birth cord was severed, there was the final nasty pain as the afterbirth slid out, and then they were hastily cleaning me, packing my womb with cotton to stop the blood which kept spilling out, my old friend Colombine was crying, and Tante Marie for once, was silent.

My vision was blurred, dazed, as I gazed up the canvas ceiling of our tent, but I could not shut my eyes. Then Clopin appeared in front of them, one hand tentatively brushing back my wet hair, the other tracing a soft line down my cold cheek. I thought I could see tears in his eyes. A second later and I realised I was not breathing, so I took in a large, ragged breath of air, and Clopin slumped over into my neck, and his shoulder's shook for a brief moment.

Colombine, Tante and Abigail still worked at cleaning me, but I struggled to sit up, my body trembling violently, the sweat now I had stopped working making me cold. Without letting me go, Clopin leaned over to the side where his cloak lay over a chair, and pulled it back to wrap around me. I barely noticed it, I was looking for my babby. Tshilaba was crouched over it behind Abigail and Tante Marie, blowing into its mouth with a straw. Its little body was all blue and red, and I could see that it did not breathe, that it did not move. I gasped out again, with outstretched arms -

"My babby!" and Tshilaba jumped and turned to us with a sorrowful face. I began to cry again.

She rose slowly to her feet and walked over to us, with my cold little babby nestled in her arms. My three lady friends moved aside as Tshilaba bent over and handed the sad little bundle over to me, and I took it in my arms and kissed it's blue little forehead, it's eyes shut tight, it's mouth slack, and held it tight to my bosom. Tshilaba spoke softly to Clopin.

"I tried everything, bulibasha. I wet it, I slapped its face and it's buttocks, I pressed its little throat. Nothing, it was too soon for this little one, too soon."

I wept over my little babby's head, not even noticing what sex it was. It was so small, so perfect, how had it caused me such pain, why had it died? They had finished tending to my poor torn body, and they moved over to the bed now to change it, taking the stained sheets away for burning. My head was still bent over my babby's cold body, so they let me be as they left, one by one, speaking quiet condolences to Clopin. "du' dera, du' dera" Clopin gestured to Tshilaba then, take the babby from Herli.

I protested as she did so, but Clopin held me firmly, and the babby was wrenched from my hands, and Tshilaba was wrapping it up and taking it away from me. I wailed.

"Li'ha'eer, my babby is detlene, detlene, give me back my babby!!"

But this was not the first stillborn Tshilaba had brought into this world, and she did not look back as she left the tent. Clopin wrapped his cloak more tightly about me, still holding me close, rocking me in his arms until my cries begin to let up. He fondled the back of my neck with his hand and leaned in close to me.

"Herli, I take you over to the bed now. You need to sleep, you must rest for days. You cannot get up, you will harm yourself. Hai shala?"

I nodded slowly, choking out "hai", and he scooped one arm beneath my knees and the other around my back and lifted me easily, carrying me carefully over to the bed where I was laid down. He pulled his cloak from around me and tucked me underneath the fresh, cool sheets. No smell of lavender on these ones. My tears had stopped, and my eyes felt red and sore and I lay like a dead thing. Clopin sat on the bed besides me, pushing a hand tenderly through my hair, looking down at me with one line marring his beautiful golden forehead. His black eyes were pits of fear as he watched him closely, with my shallow breathing and my despairing eyes.

It was Abigail who returned with solvents for my tender body, and a gentle herbal drink to soothe the pain which still jittered up and down my spine. She made Clopin move away; I knew what all of them thought - we had done things we should not of done, he had been present for the birth, we had slept naked. Of course they did not know we had always slept naked together with my other pregnancies, Clopin's hands gently stroking my big belly. As for Clopin being there when I had given birth to my poor little detlene today - a harsh memory of Clopin saying the babby was already dead leapt into my mind, and I bit my lip and turned my head away from him, hovering behind Abigail. She did not look at him, just threw the words over her shoulder.

"You had best go now, my boy." Who else would dare call Clopin a boy? "She needs to rest, in the company of no one but a healer, and that is not you."

Clopin had too much respect for Abigail to argue with her, but he looked at me anxiously. I gave him a weak smile, and a small movement of my hand to tell him to go, and after a moment of hesitation, he did, gathering up a tunic and his hat as he left. Abigail rubbed my aching body, and brushed my hair vigorously. We did not speak, but she felt no anger toward me as she did toward Clopin. She simply respected that I did not want to speak, that I had nothing to say. She finished her administrations, then peered at me with her beady eyes.

"Ove yilo isi?" she asked softly. But it was a long time before I nodded.

She took a hold of my hand, though to be honest I did not much care for holding it, then sang to me until I fell asleep, troubled and unhappy.

-----

Why was my innocent babby taken from me? The answer came to me in my dreams as I tossed and turned and cried out for my child, who I could not see and could not touch. Should it be then a coincidence and nothing more than I lost my babby the same day I had been so wicked, destroying a rom baro's personal possessions, shaming my husband, making them talk about the both of us and wonder how their King lived with such a chit of a wife? It did not seem to me to be a coincidence. So long I had carried this babby in me, seven months, not like the others who had been taken no later than the third.

I knew that is what the others would be saying as well. "Chovexani Herli has been punished for her wickedness," Romni dajs would whisper confidentially to their shebari. "Remember this when you are married and with child, mind your husband."

Curse them all.

I did not cry anymore. I had lost six children now, had failed my husband and family six times. But unlike the other five times, everyone in the Court would know about it. Previously I had kept it a shameful secret to myself, preferring even that they would think I was barren than to think my babbies were stolen from me. But now, everyone would know. They would all talk about why I had this one taken away, why had I not been able to keep it, what had I done wrong this time? For a short time only Tante Marie and Abigail would hold Clopin responsible. My behaviour of the day would be revealed, they would raise their eyebrows at each other and think Herli has brought this upon herself...

I awoke in the middle of the day with none of the forgetfulness of sleep they all talk about. I remembered, I remembered everything - every birth pain, every tear that rolled down my cheek, every scream I had flung at the heavens. My big round stomach was no more, it was flat again, the skin loose from being stretched so long, it seemed poor and shrivelled to me. Tears welled in my eyes again, and biting them back I said to myself chidingly -

"Well, you wanted to fit your favourite dress again, didn't you?"

It was the wrong thing to tell myself. The urge to cry was stronger. I hid my head beneath the sheets and wished for my husband.

He did not come, not for a half hour at least. I wondered where he had spent the night. I learnt later he had slept in the boy's tent, holding Ahvel, the youngest and most tender hearted, to him as he had not since he was a babby. I was still hiding beneath the sheets when he came in, coming over to the bed straight away to rub the form of my body beneath the covers. I was a little surprised at his presence and asked, my voice muffled -

"You did not go to work today?"

I sensed him shaking his head.

"No, little one. This is a week for mourning. Harlan will not work either. You can wear as much red as you like, from head to foot, no one will blink."

I did not answer, just hated these clean sheets which had had no time to be infused with his scent. He sighed and continued to rub my side.

"Herli - " he said softly, hesitatingly. A pause, then he continued. "Do you think it is true - what they said?"

I knew him to well to have to ask to know what he meant. Clopin, the least superstitious man I had yet known, was asking if I had lost our babby because he had held me close to his naked body while I was with child, and had me caress him. It gave me pause - Clopin listening to women's babble. I shook my head beneath the sheets.

"It is old women's superstition. It is not true." I said. I knew the real reason. The sigh he gave was one of relief, and he tried to peel back the sheets to look at me. But I would not let him, just held them tight and close about me.

"Let me get in with you then." he said finally, and I relented, loosening the sheets just enough so that when he had stripped he could wriggle beneath them.

How thankfully I moved into his arms, how gently and close he held me. I still could not raise my face to his, but I buried it in the hair of his chest and clung to him tight. His hands rubbed me soothingly all over my back and through my hair and I kissed his chest and swallowed tears. Finally he pushed me gently onto my back, despite resistance I could not match his strength, and half covered my body with his, rubbing my belly with one large, elegant hand and looking down at me tenderly with his glittering black eyes. I felt shamed he should see my face, the face of his wife who could not carry his babby the full term. I had never felt shamed for him to see my face before. Then his hand moved lower, and I gave a great gasping cry and pushed it from me, turning my head from him.

"What? What is it?" he said in alarm and I gulped at him, hurt.

"You think of that even when your wife is sore from being torn open?" I snapped at him and he held his hands up defensively.

"You think that of me? Why? I wanted only to see the wounds. Let me look, please."

It was not any part of tradition or custom for a man to look at his naked and sore wife after she had given birth, I can assure you. In the past I had been clad chastely in a nightdress until I was healed up, but Clopin and I had broken every other rule there was between man and wife, why not this one also? I let him pull the sheets up and look at the marks the babby had left on its way out; he traced them lightly, a touch as gentle as a mother touching her babe, then he bent his head and kissed them, then he kissed me and I threw my arms about his neck and held him tight. He breathed deeply into my neck for a few moments before saying.

"Herli, may I be honest with you?"

I smiled tearfully. "I would not have you any other way."

He raised his head to look into my eyes. "I'm sorry you have grief over the babby, but I am more glad you survived."

What could I say? He was just a man after all, who clung to that which brought him comfort and disliked what did not. He played with his children, and he taught them what he knew, but he did not feed or clothe them, change them, nurse them - and he did not carry them inside of him. He appreciated the life which was to come from my bulging belly, of course, and was pleased in it, but the babby did not come alive for him until it was born healthy and he nursed it in his arms. He could not truly understand how I felt because he could not feel it. So I just smiled weakly at him and kissed his unshaven cheek and told him to go and be clean before his lovely goatee was hidden amongst a hairy face.

Then I was left alone with my pain and my loneliness. For it was lonely, to suddenly have that which I carried so closely taken away. After the birth I would of had over a year of giving suck, of caring for the little living treasure which could do nothing for itself, as closely as if it had still been inside of me. Now it was gone, I could not sing to it or tell it stories, or grumble about the unfairness of being a woman in a man's world and being unable to fit into my favourite dress. All of my children were born knowing how to grumble. Running lonesome hands over my belly I sang anyway. I would have to stay in bed until I recovered, for my blood loss had been great. I was glad, very glad for it meant I would not have to face the condolences and whispers. Everyone would know why I had lost the babby, for the story of the paint-battle would of spread by now. They would feel sympathy for me of course - but the fact I had brought it on myself would not be ignored. It was just the final act in a long list of wickedness which finally could not help but be punished.

Abigail and Tante Marie came in then, oiling my body and rubbing solvents into my aching places, checking to see that all bleeding had stopped. I lay still and silent and let them. I could see Tante Marie was positively bursting to say something to me, but Abigail had evidently told her to hold her tongue. Thank god. I could not of stood to listen to her scolding nonsense and admonitions, I was having enough trouble as it was. So I lay between them as they exchanged sideways looks from one to the other, and cared for my limp and ragged body. Finally, Abigail took a deep breath and spoke up -

"These things happen sometimes, child, and it is no one's fault."

I stole a glance at Tante, who was biting the insides of her cheeks furiously. Abigail continued.

"Sometimes a babby is not meant for this world, and so it is taken. It is painful, but ultimately it is right. It does not mean there is someone to blame."

They finished their caring for me, my body was lusciously soft and smelt sweet from their ointments and massages, and they pulled a nightdress over my head, though I did nothing to assist them, just flopped and lolled. Tante Marie's lips were pursed, and I'm sure she thought of laying a resounding slap across my buttocks, but Abigail's eyes were gentle and warm, and I let them, as opposed to Tante's, fill my vision. The stood up, gathering their ointments and herbs and oils back into their baskets and looked down at limp and scented me. Abigail finished with -

"And you have four very healthy and beautiful children, more than many women can be lucky for. You will bear again. We have seen you are fertile, it is nothing to do with you."

They turned to leave and I heard Tante Marie mutter to Abigail.

"It is certainly nothing to do with Clopin!"

I waited until the soft whisper of canvas told me the tent flap had fallen shut before groaning and grabbing a pillow next to me. Nasty, spiteful old woman, Tante Marie!! Of course she would say that! Did she think I knew nothing about my husband's potency, that I, a married woman, would not understand her meaning? I understood it very well. If I were not becoming pregnant as regularly as I should for one who shared the marriage bed with her husband as I did, or if the babby was crippled, or ill or born dead, then everyone knew it was not Clopin's fault. How could it be? I was confronted with the virility of his seed every day, thankfully in no face younger than thirteen years. But they were there, about the Court - beautiful dark eyed children, with graceful bodies and golden voices, their maman's smiling at Clopin with the smile shared between very old friends. He never did so in front of me, but I knew he would sometimes take those children upon his knee and teach them things the way he taught our own babbies, giving their maman's money if they were in a tight position. And every so often, a shav or shebari of fifteen or so would enter the Court with their bags and their horse, and seek out my loyal husband and say "My daj's name was such and such; she told me that if ever I were in Paris I should seek you out..." and so it went on. Then Clopin, looking at me warily from the corner of his eye, would do anything he could to see them comfortable and settled.

Of course, it was right for him to do this. I know he did not think of sharing another woman's bed now, our bond was so close, our love too great, but the exploits of his past were in evidence everywhere, and it was painful for me. I did not like the thought another woman bore his children, bastards or not, or that another woman had known him, though none so intimately as I had. And of course - it made it very clear that if anyone was to blame we did not have as many children as we should, it was I and not Clopin.

-----

And so it went on for the entire week. I was treated like a Queen by my sons and my husband, who kept me to the bed, who fulfilled my every desire and protected me at night, and brought my meals to me and rubbed my aching feet. But always in my mind was - the babby is lost, and you are to blame. The babby is no more and it is your fault. You were not born to be a wife, you cannot fulfil the duties of a wife.

And with the thoughts of duties came thoughts of the other things I could not do. I could not cook like Tante Marie, I could not sew like Bethan, I could not clean like Sophie, I could not heal like Abigail, I could not obey like Henriette, I could not bear endless babbies like Aloise. And everyone knew. They all shook their heads and clicked their tongues at the little devil Herli. Sure, Herli was a barrel of laughs, sure Herli performed her pantomime very prettily, sure Herli could cure your beasts' ills, but a wife! Little Herli was no wife! She made a good mockery of it, but it was not enough.

Well I suited Clopin didn't I? But it was a mistake to think of he who brought sunshine to my nights, because I was weak in my heart from my babby leaving me, and I though why does Clopin put up with me, I who hit him and pull his hair, who teases him and disobeys him and flirts with the other men and shames him in front of them? For Clopin I had pricked my fingers a million times sewing the tiniest, neatest stiches I could on the most insignificant tear on his tunic, for Clopin I suffered the heat of the stove and the foulness of food preparation to please his tongue. For Clopin I set my teeth and bit my tongue down on the very worst things I could say in the company of others, which in its own way was worse than everything else. I adored him in a way I hadn't believed was possible. But I still could not be the perfect wife.

I did not cry that whole week, though my thoughts flew from one wretched idea to the other. I took advantage of my time in bed to sulk and sorrow. Lena understood better than her brers and her papa, and she came to me many times to sing and hold my hand. Clopin told our sons that when women lose a child, they lose a part of themselves for a while, so they were sympathetic, though they could not understand. For me, Clopin put ashes on his head and treated it like the death of one who'd been in the family for years. The rom brought me gifts of food and fabrics, and sang soft, achingly sweet brigaki djilia for me. But at the end of the week, mourning was over. Harlan took up his metal working apprenticeship again, Lena went back to her cooking lessons with Tante Marie, my boys played in the dirt with their friends - and Clopin went above on the streets again. But still I ached inside. I did my best to carry on with life as it was, moping around the tent in my nightdress and diklo, cooking half-hearted meals, disinterestedly cleaning as the fancy took me. My family would make a joke and laugh, then cast a quick, guilty look at me. I did not like that. It was true, I did not want to smile, but it should not be at the expense of their smiles. But what could I do? I just needed some time. My poor little babby.

-----

Clopin brought me roses one day, as I lay on the bed, holding my stomach and humming to myself, burning incense to soothe my headache. He had brought me roses before, always red for my favourite colour, plucked from an unwatched garden. But these roses were different. Each was large and in full bloom, and each was a different colour. There was the bright red of course, then the darker one, the white, the yellow, the orange and purple, the pink. He handed them to me with a proud smile, and a low bow, sweeping his hat grandly, as I stood looking in amazement at the rainbow of flowers he gave me.

I sniffed them all up, how lovely. I held them close to my bosom and then yelped as the thorns scratched the tender skin there. Clopin was very quick to sit down and kiss it better, then he looked into my eyes with a smile.

"No smiles for your rainbow bouquet, my only love?"

I wanted to smile for him then, and I tried. But it was poor and a twisted effort, and his face fell in disappointment, and he sighed and pouted at me with beseeching eyes. "It was with great risk to my life that I plucked these flowers for you, kitten!"

Oh of course, Clopin the Great Storyteller, he of The Big Words and a few Four Letter Ones too.

"This is a fact?"

"Of course, would I lie to my little one? I climbed the wall of the Palace of Justice, and danced for the stupid gaje, and saw, that despite the thick ugly roots of that black monstrosity of a building burning into the ground, that the miracle of flower could not be crushed, so with a hop and a jump, I leapt inside that garden and picked for you the best ones."

Oh please keep going Clopin, I might smile very soon. "You are a liar, big nosed one!"

He affected a wounded expression, laying one hand dramatically upon his chest.

"I could not lie to my Silver Queen, at whose feet I humbly lay these flowers and prostrate myself, begging to be worthy!"

I pinched him. "They are not at my feet, you oaf!"

He leapt up and quickly swept the flowers into his hands, a shower of petals leaving them as he did so. "They're not? What a heinous error! One moment please."

Bowing ridiculously, dramatically before me, he laid the flowers out at my feet, covered by the sheets, in an exaggerated fashion, then made much of kissing my feet through the sheets with great smacking lips. I tugged at his hair until he sat up abruptly, and scooted up closer to me. The desire to smile was becoming real now, and I wanted him to keep going, so I poked his chest.

"Such pretty lies! You should have been a poet!"

Again that mock frown. "I am a poet, how else do you think I afford my fine clothes? How else do I keep you in the manner to which you are accustomed, which makes me a truer poet than most, turning out my pockets for love! But I shall recite for you in a moment, right now I have to deal with the repeated insult of being called a liar. I have bent under the pressure. I confess, I am lying."

"The insult of being called a liar when it is true? What a poet! Anyway, I knew it!"

He grinned wolfishly at me. "I did not take them from the Palace of Justice's Gardens. I took them from the King's own gardens!!"

"Oh!" I whacked him hard, and he darted back laughing. I went for another blow but he dodged and had his arms around me in a second. He smiled lovingly down at me, and I looked adoringly up at him, then he bent down and kissed me warmly, and I responded with more ardour than I had been able to that week. When the kiss broke I moved my mouth to smile for him, I was ready now, but then my eyes opened and tears began to slide out, surprising me as much as they did him. His face fell, stricken, as I cried despite myself, and I wrenched away from him, disappointed I had once again let him down. After a moment he laid a hand on my shoulder, sighing as he rubbed it.

"Ah, ma petite-ves'tacha. I so wanted to recite a poem for you as well."

"I'm sorry, Clopin" I said, my voice muffled by pillows. He sighed again.

"Don't be, kitten. I just want you to smile again. There will be other babbies."

I sniffled. "Not that one!"

I felt him lean forward, rest his head on my shoulder. "That one wasn't meant to be. You said yourself you could never tell what sex it was, and you never had that problem with the other babbies. It wasn't meant for us, kitten."

I gulped. "What if - " I took a deep breath and turned to face him, I with my broken hearted eyes and he with his concerned ones. "What if I can never have another babby? What if I have been punished?"

He furrowed his brow. "Punished for what, cherie?"

A stifled sob escaped my throat. "Punished for not heeding you, for disobeying and for causing trouble and bringing you shame. For being a bad wife."

He frowned and grabbed me up by the shoulders. "Herli, that's ridiculous!! What has brought this to your head? I will forbid Tante Marie from ever setting foot in here again if she is filling

your head with such nonsense!"

"She did not say such things to me, I worked them out by myself!"

He shook me gently. "From her silly babble of course! Herli! You never ever shame me! I am always proud to be your husband, always! At the end of the day it is always the thought of you here that brings me home so fast! You are not a bad wife, you are one of the best!"

I snuffled again, and wiped wet hair from my wet eyes. "Do you mean this?"

Again that gentle shake. "Of course I do! Our children are very happy, I am the happiest man here. Would it be so without you?"

"But I cannot care for the home so cleverly as the other women, I have not as many sons!"

"A wife who spent all her time cooking and cleaning and sewing and not sharing her heart with her husband would not be as much fun. We have three very healthy sons, it is more than enough! Herli, I said to you before you do not belong here, but neither do I, really. My thoughts to the other men are different, my heart wants something else. We are so alike in this way."

I leaned in closer to him and wriggled. "You should be like me then, and be louder about your different heart! Then perhaps all the brutish men would begin to change."

He chuckled against my hair. "Sometimes blending in is requisite for survival. I am the leader and they expect something of me, and I very much enjoy their respect, my little one. So long as you are with me wherever I am I have no problems assimilating. I don't know where we really belong, except together."

I squeezed him tighter and when I spoke my voice was choked. "Oh Clopin, that is the most beautiful poem I have ever heard!"

He held me back to smile down at me. "Is this true? See how well I improvise? Better than Pierre, eh?"

"A thousand times better!" I sniffled and bent my head against his chest again.

His hands moved through my hair. "A poem should make you smile, not cry, kitten."

"A beautiful poem can make one weep at its loveliness."

He groaned. "No, you flatter me too much! I will become conceited!"

I banged my head against him. "What mean you, 'become'?"

He let me go and leapt to his feet. "I'll argue that point with you another day, vestacha. Right now I am become your humble servant." And again he bowed low for me, again that wonderful sweep with his hat. "Let my lady tell me what it will take to make her smile, and be it gold or riches, the rare and magnificent beast Unicorn, or even simply a mug of water from a particular stream, and I shall move the earth to fetch it for her!"

He was so silly and dramatic! I felt like teasing him.

"You are become my Court Jester then, eh?"

Immediately his head whipped up and his eyes flashed like garnets. "Herli, I would move heaven and hell to kiss your knees, but I am NOONE'S Jester, Court or otherwise." He shook a finger at me in mock scold. "How well you know this, but still your best shots are always below my belt!" I sniffled again. "I only tease, I see you as much of a Jester as I see that old pig Louis as my King! You are my only King!" I threw out my arms dramatically to placate him. "How I worship you, my big strong manly man!"

He came forward to sweep me up in his arms once more. "Ah, my little delicate girly girl!"

What an old joke between us! But looking up into those eyes, those eyes I had hoped to recreate in two months time, I felt myself begin to shake, and again I disappointed him.

"Clopin, I want our babby back." Once again my head was buried in his chest and he sighed, sighed with helplessness, sighed with sorrow for me.

"I know. But you cannot have it, I am sorry Herli. But tell me now, for my offer was genuine, what can I give you that will lighten your heart and bring an easy smile to your face?"

I breathed in gratefully the scent of him from his tunic, rubbing my face against it, pondering his question. What could make me smile again, easily, when the image of my babby's little blue and red body was forever hovering in front of my eyes? Peering beneath Clopin's arm I caught sight of my favourite dress, a red one of silk, the only silk I owned, a gift from Clopin many years ago now. It was so precious I rarely wore it. I could go out again, I realised, looking at that dress, my flame dress, my flower dress. I remembered that night, over a week ago, gazing at my first mother, the moon. I remembered my mother's words, and now they brought a bitter taste to my mouth.

No matter what I was to Clopin, my femineity was stolen piece by piece, with every babby I had lost. As they ran out of me in blood, moon took them back to her, greedily, thirstily, she took them from me and shone above, cold and uncaring. I pulled out of Clopin's arms, and took his face in my hands, looking steadily into his eyes, my own drying.

"You say you will fetch me whatever I ask for?"

He recognised that look in my eye, and a flicker of trepidation alighted in his, but he nodded firmly and said "I could never break a promise to my own heart."

I bent my forehead against his. "I want the moon. Bring her to me."

His eyes widened in disbelief and he began to laugh. "What?"

I frowned at him. "You think I jest? I want that bitch!"

He leaned back, holding up his hands. "Alright alright, my only love, I know you grieve and that your heart aches, but now you are speaking of the moon as a real person!"

I clenched my fists. "Do you deny that she is a great power above us, and plays part in the life

of all women?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

He shook his head, no. "I don't deny that at all! But like you say, she is a great power! Not attainable, not for Clopin, not for you, even if you deserve her."

Why oh why did I insist upon it? I think because my heart ached so much, and I felt the loss of my babby so greatly, that I just wanted to feel that there was one person who would bend over backwards for me, who wouldn't leave me, lonesome and hungry for them. It wouldn't matter if he didn't succeed. And of course, no one on this earth loved me so much as Clopin, and I loved no one so much as him. So tears again stung my eyes, and I thumped my fists upon the bed.

"Oh Clopin! You promised me."

He looked at me desperately for a moment, kneeling on the bed with my eyes all-afire with tears, and my hair uncombed, and my prematurely flat belly. Then I think he realised why I made such an impossible request, and with a despairing little smile he came gallantly over to me, to catch up my hand up and press it against his lips.

"My lady has made her request, I go now to fulfil her desire!"

I squeezed his hand gratefully, and wiped my eyes. He smiled at me again, then placed his hat upon his head. He walked towards the tent flap before turning around and sighing. Then swiftly he leapt over to his trunks, and fetched something from them, which he tossed to me. I caught the multi-coloured blur and I hugged it to me when I saw that it was Puppet, Clopin's own favourite puppet, in his own image and his companion when he was on the streets.

"There, Puppet is your Guardian, your Knight. He will protect you and entertain you while I am away on my voyage. Look after her, Puppet!!"

Puppet, or Papuszo as I called him, lived when he was on Clopin's hand. He spoke with his own voice, he acted by his own thoughts. Like Clopin he was full of conceit, but he was also akin to a little child, for he trembled and shook and laughed and cried at Clopin's tales with all the inquisitiveness and naivety of a little one. He caused Clopin much exasperation with his cheekiness and mischievousness, for which he was punished with a sharp rap over the head. But Puppet was sweet and friendly, and when we were alone together he would come alive for me and we would talk, comforting me in the absence of my husband. But I was too shy to give him life with his master at hand, so Puppet only made Clopin a salute, and with a grin and a shake of his head, Clopin bowed out.

I stifled a little sob when I was alone, but then I remembered Puppet in my arms and I held him up to look into his winking black eyes. His lovely painted red mouth begged for a kiss and I gave it him gladly, before lying myself down, he cuddled in my arms, and settling for sleep.

"Tell me, Papuszo, will my husband be successful in his mission, will he return with what I have asked for?"

When Puppet spoke to me, it was not to my ears as he did with Clopin, but to my mind, and that is how I heard him then. "That big oaf is more clever than you or I give him credit! There is something that is telling me will bring back for you the moon!"

-----

Later, I hovered at the tent flap for what seemed like hours, trying to decide whether or not to leave. The week had passed, mourning could cease, I could leave the tent. I still felt weak, so very weak and still so very sore, but I was tired from being tired, from sleeping so much. I clutched Puppet to me and asked again and again, should I go out? And again and again he replied, yes yes, go out go out. I would put out one toe, then hastily draw it in again. I would poke out my head then retreat. I would take a deep breath, march to the flap, and then my hand would halt upon it.

What could I do if I left? I did not think I could bear to see the pitying looks from my friends, the women. I did not want to tolerate the sidewards glances of the men. And I thought I would scream to be asked by the children "what happened to the babby in your belly, Queenie Herli?" Worse still, my old friend Colombine had not once come to visit me. Tante Marie and Abigail had made appearances regularly, to check my body and make sure all function as normal, but Colombine, my first lady friend in the Court - not a peep, not a whisper. I could not think of a reason. Colombine despised the idea of marriage, shuddered at the thought of bearing, and laughed in the face of what she called superstition. She would not think me so wicked she could no longer bear me?

I did not know, but I was afraid to find out.

When Puppet began a mocking song of the timidity of women, one I could well imagine Clopin having taught him, I put on my diklo and marched finally, boldly from the tent, grasping Puppet by the one ear, he squeaking all the way. I should not have feared so much - it was the middle of the day, and the Court was near deserted. I grumbled at myself for being so nervous about nothing, and my stride picked up as I moved through the tents. I had no purpose, I had no destination. I had wanted simply to get it over and done with - to walk amongst them when they all knew what had happened, and to not blink when they

looked at me curiously.

As I reached the Centre, the Court became more populated, here there were men going about their business, great large traditionalist men who nudged one another as I approached then turned away, though whether that was an act of respect or to shun me, I could not say. I narrowed my eyes at them, then greeted them each aloud by name "Bonjour Christophe, Jean, Arben, Emilian." to their surprise, and so it went on. I came to the large area in front of the stage at the front of the Court, the area where we all sat in circles of an evening to talk and drink. And there were my friends, the women. The ones who were pregnant, like I had been, who could not go above to the streets. They had all the smallest children with them, sitting at their feet and tugging at their skirts as they listened to stories and wriggled, wanting secretly to run wild. Therese caught sight of me first, and widened her eyes, before elbowing the bosom of the lady who sat next to her - Valentina. One by one sets of black, brown and green eyes turned towards me, blinking curiously in the ruddy light of the circle where they sat.

I was lucky to see Therese and Fifika there, not so lucky to count Valentina and Elena. The former two were quite sweet and placid and were both very young and relatively new to the Court. The latter two were much older and had been here for much of their lives. Valentina was gorgeous, shallow and very bossy, Elena was her bosom companion. Elena had been married before I had come, but Valentina remembered the time very well when Clopin was unmarried and unfettered and quite happy to share his affections amongst his lady friends. He was as shameless a flirt as ever, but the honeyed words which came from his lips were spoken now more in jest than true flattery, and Valentina felt that sharply. As I said, she was gorgeous, and I was not. Valentina had also counted as a friend the doomed and unmourned Isabelle, traitor of the Court. But I did not let them daunt me, not even the beautiful Valentina with her lizard glare. Clinging to Puppet, my little Clopin, I marched right up to them and sat myself down amongst the children, amongst the dirt of the floor. I could do this now, without my huge swollen belly protruding in front of me, and the babbies remembered me from days gone past when I would play with them easily, so now they clambered happily upon me, and I grinned back at them. Valentina, one eyebrow raised, said sharply to me.

"Why Herlikin, are you sure, quite sure, you are in health fit enough to leave your tent?"

"Oh I am in health fit enough, Valentina, why thankyou so for your concern." I replied sweetly, so sweetly.

A slight sneer passed over her lips, but instead of making a retort, she instead leaned back with her elbows against the bench, and stroked her five month belly with a caressing hand and a smug smile. I turned away.

Therese rubbed my shoulder. "There Herli, you are looking well. You must tell us if you feel ill."

I half-smiled wanly at her. "I will, I will."

A moment later Elena piped up with; "And where is that charming husband of yours, Herlikin? He sat with us for awhile earlier and said he was going then to be with you."

"He has been and gone, he is fetching something for me."

"Ah Clopin - he could never resist to do a favour for a lady." Valentina laughed, tossing her rich brown hair over her shoulders. I looked at her from unperturbed eyes. She would goad me and Elena would too, for her favour, as she had already tried.

"And yet I am sure, quite sure that only a few days ago when you asked Clopin to fetch for you a pail of water, he had to respectfully decline."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "He was occupied already! He was - " and here she stopped and I finished for her.

"He was coming over to me. Not to fetch me anything, not to give me anything, just to sit by me."

I couldn't resist the smug glint in my eyes, and the other three women had drawn back and were watching the two of us warily. Valentina pondered a retort, but it was clear who the winner would be. I was not pregnant and she was, I was also renowned for my vicious temper and habit of biting.

So finally she shook her hair back again, and laughed, a brittle sound. "Well that is love for you, and Clopin he is the romantic."

After that, our attention returned to the children with the outbreak of a scuffle. Two little boys were wrenched apart and spanked and subdued. Then we women leant back to watch them at their play through half-closed lids, chatting a little. I stayed silent, mostly, my attention focused on the babbies as Valentina bullied Therese and Fifika and Elena vied for her approval. Why did I stay with them? I did not really like them, we were not at all close. But I had sat with them for seven months, sat and gossiped and vied with Valentina for leader of the group. It was hard to pull myself away, especially watching the little babbies playing in front of us. So painful to watch it was too, those smiling, dimpled dirty little faces and bright eyes, the young chey playing with their even younger siblings as though they were the daj. I sighed reflectively to myself, and my hands wandered to my belly, the seven month habit hard to break. How strange it looked, all that empty space in front of me. How strange it felt. And here were these three women, each one of them blessed with a healthy, living babby in their belly, and all of them stealing glances at me when they thought I did not notice. I did not want to leave, for I knew the whispers would begin immediately. I did not want to even imagine what they would say about me, about my punishment, about how I had deserved it, about how disappointed Clopin would be.

I knew Valentina had smugly marked me reaching for the belly which was not there, and I sighed again. I was weakening. Soon the laughter of the children would be too much, I would start to cry and have to run back to my tent, leaving them behind with all their gossip they would spread further that evening. Then I remembered Puppet, safe in the folds of my skirts, and I pulled him out and cuddled him close once more.

"Papuszo, protect me from their chovexani wishes!" I whispered to him and Fifika marked it.

"It's Puppet, Clopin's Puppet!" she said delightedly. I pushed him quickly under my skirts again. "Herli, why you hide him, bring him out!"

Puppet was almost as popular as Clopin himself.

"Pick it up when Clopin was not looking, eh Herli?" Valentina asked dryly and I bristled.

"He gave him me to protect me while he is out getting me what I asked from him."

"That is just like Clopin!" Therese said warmly, her big brown eyes sparkling. "He is full of fancies. It is no wonder the children love him so!"

She meant no harm, but my mouth twisted anyway. I seemed to feel she had referred to me as one of those children, me, six years her senior! Valentina jumped in again.

"Hai, he is like that. Always a little story, a little game, a special name. He used to call me Tinabelle."

She would not stop trying! Valentina always managed to mention this little fact whenever we were in each other's presence for long enough. But it never bothered me, for it was long before my time, and Clopin only ever called her Mademoiselle Valentina now, much to her chagrin. Besides which, Clopin had told me about her. "When I came back from my travels one year, Valentina was a new arrival in the Court, and I was entranced by her beauty! My, but she was like the princess from a fairy tale! I dreamed of creating a puppet in her image! I was very young then, only sixteen, and Valentina was younger, but had long since learnt the art of flirting and she knew how to hide her true nature from a potential admirer. Valentina was one of the first to teach me beauty is truly only skin deep, kitten. We flirted awhile, and then lay together a couple of times, but I found we had nothing to talk about, there is nothing in that lovely head of hers, and I found it hard to be aroused by her afterward. Also she made the great mistake with me - for while she could mesmerize other men with her charms indefinitely, I was much used to being the one in charge, and her spoilt coquetry and demands did nought but kill any interest I had in her,

which was purely physical from the start. It died altogether the day I saw her whip a little boy for smudging her skirt. I called her Tinabelle in the beginning because it was pretty and it pleased her, afterwards I called her it diminutively, as I saw her - small and pretty and nothing else, though she never knew."

I thought of that story as Valentina pouted her rosebud lips and once more tossed those rich locks of hair over her shoulder. It would seem evident Valentina's mother had taught her nothing about the richness within herself, all she could do was mimick pretty gestures and little faces. She had nothing inside of her, no sense of herself, of her cycles, or of her links to the earth and to the mother.

It was easy to pity Valentina when I thought of her this way, despite the fat little babby growing happily in her belly.

Suddenly there was a shout behind us, and it surprised me how quickly I could move now, as I turned around to see my big, lanky husband bounding towards us. He was beaming his wonderful big smile, and I got up hurriedly to move towards him. He would barely notice the other women beyond a greeting, but I did not need my virile husband and his barren wife to be gawked at more than was necessary.

He swept me up in his arms and I kissed him all over his brown face while he laughed, then shouted, when Puppet popped up between us and began to kiss me all over. He put me down and snatched Puppet back who began immediately to shout out loud that I had made him do it.

"Shush!" Clopin said. "I know your evil and wicked ways! I will never be able to leave you alone with Herli again, least you take advantage of her!"

"It is she who will take advantage of me!"

"Papuszo, you speak so of your Queen? I am hurt!" I said sadly to Puppet and he lowered his head in shame. "But he protected me well." I told Clopin, and Puppet leapt up again, clapping his hands together. Clopin laughed, and Puppet vanished without so much as goodbye, as he did so often, and then my husband was wrapping a protective arm around my shoulders and leading me back to our tent.

"Herli, I would appreciate it in future if you waited until I got back before disappearing." Clopin said scoldingly. "I thought you might have taken it into your head to run off for awhile."

I frowned. "I can't organise everything to fit in with your time, Clopin. I felt like taking a walk, and so I took it!"

Two old romni passing by heard us and looked in disapproval. My cheeks burned red, already I had made another mistake. My babby was in the ground only a week, and I was behaving as though it had never happened. I pulled away from my husband and hurried back to our tent, but he wasn't far behind. He caught me up before I fell onto the bed and cuddled me close, and rude little Puppet remerged to wipe my eyes and kiss my cheeks, and I hugged them both and got a hold of myself. No sense in tears now, it was all over and done with after all. I knew those two old romni were probably in the Square again telling the others how wicked I was, and I could imagine them lapping it up with glee.

Clopin sat on the bed and pulled me onto his lap. "You know, despite what you think they do not all hate you and see you as the Devil's Own Daughter, Herli." he said knowingly. "They think you're a little wild, it's true, but you're good fun and I'm sure they none of them blame you for what happened. You should stop blaming yourself."

I clawed at his shoulders. "I don't blame me, I blame Her! Moon! She lied to me!"

His eyebrows flickered as he looked at me with confused eyes. "Herli, I don't know why you have chosen to fixate upon Her as the cause of your grief. I don't understand what has put this fancy in your head, or why you want to act upon it! What is really going on here?"

I didn't really know either. Perhaps because I had taken such great comfort in Her just hours before I had lost my babby. Perhaps because I had felt solace and power in the knowledge that my body works with her, and therefore She must protect me. It had not occurred to me that She would be heartless and cruel, and punish me for my wicked deeds by stealing from me my innocent babby. I was always aware of Moon above me, but not so much since I had left India as I had been that night. It seemed as though just as my faith in something had been restored, that faith betrayed me. My husband wanted to understand, and so I did my best to explain this to him, and at the end he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Oh Herli, you're hurting and it kills me. Where is my little one, my kitten, my Lune?"

"Don't call me by that name!" I exclaimed. "I throw that name away now!"

He mock pouted and blinked exaggeratedly at me. "But if that name is in the trash heap, Soleil is left by himself! What will he do then?"

"Sun is stronger, man is stronger." I snapped pettishly at him. Then my hand moved quickly up to touch the sun and moon pendant which hung around my neck. A golden sun and a sickle moon joined together, it was the first gift of love from Clopin to myself, a symbol of our finally joining together to live with each other. It had hung so long and so steadily around my neck, that the flesh beneath it was paler than the rest of my skin. Because of this gift we would sometimes call each other Soleil and Lune. Needless to say, Lune had a bitter ring to it now.

Clopin sighed. "Alright, Herli. But it will be dark in my night time without my moon."

I hated to feel I had disappointed him, hated to feel that my normally ebullient and cheerful husband was feeling low because of me. But I could not pretend that I was happy, and I felt angry than I thought I should be, so I poked him savagely in the shoulder and snapped.

"And where is She, She you promised to fetch for me today? You have come home empty handed?"

He put me gently down on the bed and stood before me, once again assuming his role, an exaggerated expression of dismay on his face, his hands clasped before him.

"I must confess, Madame! I could not capture the Moon herself. But only because it was day when I went seeking Her, which is something neither you nor I thought of, eh? But I would not return to my lady empty handed! I have found reminisces of Her sojourns to earth, and have brought them back to you, hoping they will lighten your burden, and bring a smile to your face, so that there can be one in my heart!"

"Such a poet!" I said scathingly, but my heart was very tender, and he knew it. He drew forth then from his pockets several little objects, handling them with his beautiful large hands, sighing as he looked down at them, before moving to sit next to me on the bed. "They seemed so sweet and appealing when I gathered them, but now, when I am faced with you, my love, they seem only inadequate."

He handed to me then, one by one, his moon memorials. A little box of the type used to keep perhaps a pair of earrings, or a small chain in, on its top engraved with a moon painted in silver. Then he handed me a shimmery white scarf, shot through with silver which I wrapped around my neck. There was a little carved candlestick with the face of the moon upon it, and some pretty silver bangles. I did not make a habit of asking Clopin where he acquired his little treasures, and did not begin to ask now, just as he did not ask me where I had acquired new jewellery or shawls when I come home with such things.

Despite my unhappiness, despite the little image of that red and blue body ever present in the back of my mind, it was impossible not to smile at the sweetness of what he had done, so I smiled and he grinned triumphantly. I put on my new bangles and set the candlestick by the one near the bed. Then I kissed him and he kissed me back, and we lay down on the bed and kissed for many hours, and with each kiss I felt fuller and cleaner, as though he were filling me up with love and sensuality, and I clung greedily to him. I was twenty nine and I behaved like a chit of twelve, but Clopin could always make me feel like a woman, no matter what sense of it had been stolen from me.

When finally we stopped, Clopin pushed my hair back from my eyes and told me carefully, "There will be other babbies, Herli."

I nodded, and hugged him again. I was not sure I agreed with him, but it was time to let it pass. My family wanted to be happy again without feeling as though they had done me an injury, and there was nothing that could be done, after all. I held onto my little treasures lovingly and smiled at Clopin and got up to make the dinner for my family.

-----

But I was no better, really. The strain of appearing outwardly cheerful did damage to my insides. I did not fool Clopin that evening, and his smile quickly disappeared to be replaced with a long frown. When I was out of his arms I once again felt useless and unfeminine, unsuitable and ill placed. When dinner was finished and all was cleaned I forced Clopin out of the tent, telling him to go the Square and sit with the others. At least there he could laugh without feeling guilty.

The I put on my cloak and left the Court, slipping out through one of the back entrances, leading through the catacombs and coming up under a small bridge. It was late and the streets were silent and cold. And above it all the Moon hung, unblinking, emotionless and distant. The grey stones were illuminated silver, the small houses were a dim white. I could see my skin was washed like milk, painting me that smooth colour. It all seemed so cold and heartless. I felt that I hated it. I reached the little wall I had sat on over a week ago, and pulled myself up onto it, standing upon it and tiptoe, straining my arms out as far as I could, towards Her. She seemed so close, I could block her with one outstretched hand, but I could not reach her. My arm fell to my side.

"Where's my babby?" I whispered to Her. "Why did you trick me? What did my babby do to deserve dying before even living? What games do you play?"

She, of course, did not answer. She never answered unless you were flattering Her. I had no mind to do that. I took off my shoe and hurtled it at Her, as hard as I could, it flying off into the night sky and disappearing.

"DAMN YOU!" I screamed. "You take them all from me because I am different! I, who understand you better than most of them, and you treat me this way? Well, I won't be the same as them! You can take my babbies from me, but I will still be me!" I stopped and coughed.

"Herli" a soft voice said below me, and I leapt and almost fell from the wall, but my husband's arms steadied me, and I got my balance and turned to face him, looking down into his lovely gentle brown face."Bravi, Herli." He said, and stroked my hands. I coughed again and looked away. Already my vision was blurring.

"You should be with your friends." I said, to hide my tears. He shrugged.

"Hai, but I was struck with an idea. A brilliant idea."

I saw then beside him a large pail filled with water. I looked at him questioningly. He held his arms out to me.

"Come down here, kitten. I have a way to fulfil your desire."

I let him lift me down, and he made me kneel on the cold cobblestones with him, the pail of water between us. He clasped my hands and looked into my eyes, his face illuminated softly under Her

harsh glow.

"Herli, you must have complete faith for me to be able to do this. Do you believe in me?" I nodded without hesitation. Over the years I had come to believe Clopin capable of doing anything he wanted to.

"There can not be the slightest doubt in your heart, the least flicker of disbelief. You must place your faith utterly in me and my abilities. Shut your eyes, love."

I did, and he carefully placed my hands in my lap, before tilting my head skywards. Then his hands left me, and it was just his voice which caressed me.

"I know how to capture the Moon, to pluck her from the sky. The Moon Cannot be Stolen? Clopin can steal Her, if only for a short while. I am doing it now - no - don't open your eyes, little one. Some faith must be blind, or there would be little faith in the world. You will open your eyes in a moment and She will not be in the sky. I will have Her for a few moments. You will be able to see Her in Her prison. Herli, open your eyes kitten."

I did and then I gasped in shock, for the sky was empty, Moon was not there! I felt my blood run cold and my heart almost stop, but before I could look about for Her, Clopin had grasped my face gently and was turning it downwards. There, in the pail between us, Moon was trapped! I could see her there, bobbling just below the surface. I gasped and reached out to touch her. It must be reflection! But Moon had not been in the sky a moment ago, I had seen! I lifted my head to look again, but Clopin caught it quickly and returned my attention to the pail.

"She is there, Herli. Yours for a few moments. That is all I can manage."

"What is this magic?" I asked him softly, my finger skimming the surface of the water.

He smiled at me. "Clopinomagik. You see what I would do for you? I will give you another babby, forget about this Moon who can be captured in a pail of water. Herli, she is a great power as the Mother of Womankind, but she is not a part of our lives. And Herli, I have considered I confess - perhaps she is only a light in the sky? She only represents the workings of your body, your light and dark sides, your growth, your rhythms. She does not dictate them. When a man finds his other half, and knows he will never love another, she becomes his Moon. You are not the Moon's daughter, Herli, you are the Moon." He reached out his hand to clasp mine." No matter what happens, you will always be you. You're a woman, and a good mother and wife, and a lover." his eyes seemed darker still as I looked into them now. "And my dearest friend. No matter what happens. This is what I think is truly meant when they say the Moon cannot be stolen."

I looked into his wonderful dark eyes for a long moment, those eyes simultaneously filled with warmth and humour, my lips slightly parted, and my eyes brimming. Then all of a sudden I laughed in delight, and splashed the water in the pail, the moon ripping and tearing easily in a dozen places. He was right about her, right about it all. I mourned still for my little babby, of course, but Clopin spoke the truth. In my grief I had twisted everything around, and had looked to the wrong source for comfort and solace. Only he who understood me, only he who was my other half, and my guide, and who made me a woman in this world could bring me that, and he had. No matter I was a brat, and an independent, and a ferocious little devil-child to all abouts, in the light of his sun I was a woman, I was everything I could be, I was Lune. And I didn't need to be anything else.

I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him again and again, loving him for working this magic though I did not know how he had done it. He smiled back at me, and it felt good to be able to laugh again with ease. He fished a little wooden cup from his pockets and filled it with water from the pail, handing it to me.

"Don't let the moon swallow you, Herli. You swallow the moon."

I drank the cup of water, and laughed, it was so cold and so sweet, like liquid silver. He helped me to my feet, and together we knocked over the pail, the water running over the cobblestones, setting moon free.

He let me look up at the sky again, and she was there, in her old place, and she did not seem so distant now. I noticed a black smudge where I had not noticed one before, and thought wonderingly of my lost shoe. I looked to Clopin, who shrugged with his old mischievous grin.

"She may be a light in the sky, but she's a powerful one."

I didn't care. I took off my other shoe and held out my hand to my husband, who took it and kissed it with a smile. Hand in hand we turned to walk back to our home, and I did not once look behind me.

**Fin!**


End file.
